Oblivion
by HedgieX
Summary: Post Series 9, Harry   Ruth are now content together. But the world of MI5 is never simple, and, as a whirlwind of secrets and lies are unravelled, the line between love   hate becomes even more blurred, leaving them wondering who they can really trust...
1. Chapter 1

His hand slowly wound itself around her waist, and held her closer, so that their bodies curved into eachother's. A subtle smile stretched across her lips, a strand of her chocolaty hair falling over her face as she laid her head on his shoulder. He reached out a lazy arm, flicking the television to standby, and the couple fell into a companiable silence, lulled into peaceful dreaming.

Outside, silhouetted behind the embroidered silk curtains, an owl swooped low, its cry echoing through the dusky clouds. Bitter autumn winds rattled the window frame, dragging whirlwinds of blazing leaves down with them.

But inside the cottage, curled up together in wholehearted peace and content, Harry and Ruth were oblivious.

No, life hadn't always been perfect for them; they were the first to admit that. There'd been much exasperation and distress exchanged in the years they'd worked together, along with a reasonable share of heartbreak. But there'd always been a lingering attraction, and, where Harry wanted something, he found a way to get it, whatever the cost.

As Tennessee Williams had once aptly asserted, the day you stopped suffering was the day you died, and that wasn't something he wanted to consider right now. Life would never be perfect; Spooks understood that better than anyone. He felt, however, that he was happier now than he had been in a long time – truly fulfilled.

And that feeling was reciprocated by Ruth; not always had the two found it easy to open up to each other, but sometimes the things left unsaid were the ones that really mattered.

"I wonder how the team are," Ruth murmured faintly. Lucas's death had, naturally, shaken Section D to the core, and caused them to, again, re-evaluate their perspective. Members of the team came and went, and were promptly wiped from the memory of MI5, but remained forever imprinted in the minds of their former friends and colleagues.

"You worry so, Ruth," Harry reprimanded, yet so softly she found herself straining to hear him. He never entered into romance, as such; Ruth remained firmly Ruth to him, however much he adored her. But that didn't mean he couldn't be sensitive when he wanted to be. "It's always hard; adapting. But Erin's good. Everything will be fine, I promise you."

Ruth didn't have the heart to protest. Harry would've trusted Lucas with his life, had it come to it, but that hadn't exactly worked out well for anyone. Erin seemed a good spy, and of course she trusted her partner's judgement, but sometimes... "I'm tired, Harry."

"Yes. Yes, so am I. You go on up to bed; I'll sort us out some tea," he found her hand and squeezed it, savouring the softness of her skin against his, the warmth of her grip...

"Thank you," she uncurled his fingers and stood up, heading for the stairs without meeting his concerned gaze. He barely had chance to consider the reason for her offhand attitude, though, as he dragged himself from the sofa. The undeniable clicking of gunfire pierced the tranquillity of the home, the sound harsh and unmerciful.

Harry froze, and Ruth followed his lead, pausing mid-step. Both glanced nervously towards the door as the screeching of tyres gradually softened to nothing. What the_ hell _was going on?

"Stay there," he demanded rigidly, wrapping his faded tartan dressing gown further around his waist and slipping out into the porch.

Ruth stood for a moment, torn between retreating to the bedroom and facing the music with Harry. It shamed her to think she was even considering the former option; normally her spy's instinct would be immediately to fight. But tonight...

The front door slammed shut, and Ruth, being Ruth, found herself trusting her instinct; hastily retracing her route and hurrying out into the dark. The security light on the front of their property had clicked on at the movement outside, and the area was bathed in a weak artificial glow.

"Harry?"

"Ruth, an ambulance – quickly," he barely acknowledged her, too occupied was he bent over something... As her eyes became accustomed to the dubious light, she could make out a lifeless body sprawled out in the road.

She ran back towards the house, throwing herself up the front steps and seizing Harry's mobile phone from the coffee table. She dialled three nines in quick succession, dashing around the house to collect a medical kit and a blanket as she waited.

Why did time seem to stretch out before your eyes when you were scared? Why was suffering so very prolonged from reality?

Finally, the call was accepted, and she hastily babbled out the necessary details of the incident, and gave her address. It felt so wrong, telling the truth. But that was what working for MI5 did to you – you became so wrapped up in the world of lies and deception that you simply forgot how it felt to be honest. About the facts, and about your emotions.

She selected Dimitri's number from the list next; somehow, whatever Harry said, she wasn't quite inclined to trust Erin yet. And one should always trust their instinct.

"Ruth?" he sounded groggy as he answered the phone. Well, it was the middle of the night – they all had to sleep at some point. "What...are you okay?"

"Yes. Well, no. I had to give the home address to the paramedics, and I don't know who did it, and..."

"Whoa, Ruth; calm down," there was a series of creaks as he climbed from the bed, evidently wide awake now, "You're at home? Where's Harry? What happened?"

"We were going to bed, and...and..." it struck her just how inarticulate she became when frightened – she could never have become a field agent. She hurried back out towards Harry, listening to Dimitri's shuffles as he dragged on fresh clothes. "We heard gunshots. There seems to be one casualty; I don't know how bad it is yet, but...oh my God."

"What?"

Ruth, upon reaching Harry's side, had frozen, dropping down onto her knees as a gasp escaped her lips. This wasn't just a random attack. They couldn't pretend it was bad luck any more.

Because there, in the enveloping darkness in front of them, with her blonde hair strewn over her eyes as a trickle of blood dribbled from her mouth, was Beth.

XxXxX

**Thanks for reading - I hope you've enjoyed it. This is actually my first ongoing Spooks FanFic, so please re****view and tell me what you think, or if you have any ideas for future chapters. I don't own Spooks, or anything that goes along with it...but we can all dream! :) xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the**** lovely reviews so far :) I hope you enjoy this chapter:**

"Sir?" a tall, youthful man addressed Harry respectfully, indicating to the doorway across the corridor from where he, Ruth and Dimitri sat in silence.

Harry nodded, and the worker retreated, understanding this wasn't the easiest of moments for them. Dimitri, unusually pale and reserved, mirrored his boss as he stood up, but Harry frowned. "Are you sure? You don't have to. Is this really how you want to remember her?"

"It's fine, Harry. I need to see her, just one more time."

"Okay," he permitted softly, brushing Ruth's shoulder only lightly as they followed the morgue-attendee's direction. She'd barely spoken to him since they'd found Beth. He could understand she was in shock. But there was something more than that – the lingering moment on the stairs...

Ruth had held Beth in her arms, last night, whispering softly to her as she struggled to stay conscious. She'd slipped away long before the medics' arrival, but they had got one word from her; Sandbank. What that meant, or didn't, they hadn't yet established.

The member of staff met them at the entrance, his fingers hovering over the handle. If you looked at this from his perspective, this couldn't be the nicest job in the world. But his mind must be buzzing with curiosity right now – he'd had to sign the official secrets act, hadn't he? "Ready?"

"Yes," Harry settled. The room was opened up, and the three men stepped inside, watching as the white cloth over Beth's head was drawn back, and her pale face revealed. Dimitri gave a nauseous retch and turned away, leaving Harry to wander across and formally identify their former colleague.

Eventually, the cloths were smothered across her body again, and Harry led Dimitri from the room, leaving behind the faint whiffs of blood, sweat and tears. Why did death always seem to have a smell? Yet one you could never really identify; all the worst things in the worst mingled in together.

Ruth jumped up as she saw Dimitri's expression, "You shouldn't have gone. God, are you going to be okay?"

"It...it was her." he mumbled, before throwing a cupped hand over his mouth and retreating down the passageway.

"He'll be fine," Harry sighed unsympathetically, sinking back down onto the sofa, "He's seen them before, and he'll see plenty more in his time."

"But this is Beth, Harry. Not just some random terrorist. We can't convince ourselves that they deserved to die this time, can we? Just because she was decommissioned doesn't mean she was evil; if we'd given her a chance, she could've have made an excellent officer."

"You didn't even like her a few weeks ago."

"That doesn't mean I wanted her dead! She was just a kid, Harry! Thrown in, chewed up, spat out - just like everyone else has been! And still they keep on coming, running eagerly into their deaths as they try to do what's right for their country! It sickens me!" she yelled, undecided between fury and resentment, and sorrow and regret, as she ran from him.

Harry watched her go, confusion furrowing his brow. She rarely raised her voice with him, even if she was angry. He had to find out what was wrong with her before her behaviour escalated any more. But she wasn't willing to tell him, and Dimitri seemed to be on her side. None of the new recruits knew her well enough, and he couldn't ask them anyway. Who was there left?

Ruth was, as always, right.

XxXxX

"Okay. Forensics on Miss Bailey's body came back; two bullets through the stomach. Weapon is as yet unidentified, but it doesn't seem to be anything we can use as evidence anyway – the bullets are pretty regular." Erin addressed her team serenely, glancing to Dimitri as an image of Beth flashed up on the screen, "We believe she was raped beforehand, but they appear to have used..."

"Yes, thank you," Harry cut her off sharply – if that sent shivers up his spine, how must Ruth and Dimitri feel at the suggestion? "Sandbank?"

"Well, there's a village in Scotland, a hotel chain, a beach complete with ferry..." Erin seemed somewhat irritated by Harry's sharp tone; to her, this was just basically normal case, and she didn't exercise sympathy anyway.

She was like Ros, in a sense. Only Ros had secretly been a favourite of Harry's, and the rest of the team's, from the start, whereas Erin...well, it was fair to say she wasn't greatly popular.

"Don't push me, Erin. I'm not in the mood," he grumbled, turning to face Dimitri and Ruth, "Have either of you found any leads that didn't come from typing 'Sandbank' into Google?"

"It was _Yahoo_."

Dimitri, despite himself, smirked as Harry spun around to fire a death stare at Erin, "Not really. Tariq's trawled through pretty much all of the operations folders, but earned himself nothing aside from a paper cut. Ruth's tried a few assets, and I've talked to her old colleagues, but..."

"But we've got nothing," Ruth finished, again avoiding Harry's gaze as she busied herself fiddling with the pendant she always wore around her neck. There was something comforting about routine and habit; something secure.

"Great," Harry slammed a hand down on the desk bitterly, "So we've got a dead ex-colleague, a compromised home address, and absolutely no clue what's going on? We're supposed to be bloody MI5; we're supposed to be the ones with the secrets!"

There was an uncomfortable silence for a long beat, Erin's lips set in a firm scowl whilst Ruth and Dimitri's expressions contained elements of both sorrow and confusion. Fighting wasn't going to help anyone. If they wanted to solve this; to discover the truth and obtain justice for Beth, they needed to be united.

"Harry..." Ruth began. Was his mood down to her?

"Dimitri, keep trying for Sandbank leads; I don't want to see your face again until you've found something for me. And Erin, I want the full details on Beth; childhood, private detective jobs, decommissioning...don't miss anything."

They both nodded, drawing back their chairs and exiting with another word. Harry wasn't the subtlest creature; he evidently wanted a word with Ruth, and they couldn't change his mind now whatever they said. She'd hidden away for long enough anyway. She'd have to face him this time.

"Ruth. I think we need to talk."

XxXxX

**I'm having to ****invent Erin's character from the mere *spoiler* of 'ambitious'...I suppose we'll all just have to wait to see what the new recruits are really like ;)**

**I don't own Spooks, but of course I wish I did – every day!**

**Again, thanks for reading; please review! xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

_Why is it so hard to find someone who cares about you? When it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you__._

Ruth, subconsciously, found herself straining to hear the music floating out from the loose cord on Tariq's iPod. Previously, his taste had annoyed the hell out of her – Ode to Joy was so much more her style. But this song...

"Tariq?" she found her voice was hoarse.

"Yep?" he hurriedly shoved the device into his jacket pocket; the sheer amount of times he'd been lectured on distractions from his work defied belief, "You okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. I was just...I was just wondering...that song?"

A smile crept across his lips as he registered she wasn't joking, and she flushed – was her musical taste now to be broadcast around the department via water cooler indiscretions? But Tariq's cheer was genuine, "It's not the kind of thing I like normally either. I...I found it on Beth's laptop when I was searching it, and it just stuck in my head."

Ruth nodded. She had wondered. "It...it's..."

Tariq fished the iPod back out and handed her the spare earpiece, so they sat side by side, listening. Music was funny like that; it could touch you.

After a couple of verses, accompanied by regular furtive glances towards Harry's office, he paused the soundtrack, eyeing Ruth questioningly, "Is everything alright? You know, with Harry?"

"Yes. No. I'm not sure. It's not his fault. But..."

"Just tell me if I'm interfering," he suggested amiably, upon noting her reluctance, "It's none of my business."

"No, no; it's fine," she replied softly, flooded with warmth at his deeply empathetic eyes. She was silent for a moment, as if psyching herself up, then began her explanation, "Yesterday would've been George's birthday. My future husband. I rang his sister – the one who cares for Nico now – but she didn't want to talk; she only allowed me to say hello to him. I still feel so guilty. And it made me realise how much I miss that life. It was simple, and pure. I felt free."

"I thought you liked your job?"

"I do, I love it. And I love Harry; I really missed him in Greece. He's a good man; intelligent, and loyal, and genuine. I should be content – he loves me back, and we're happy, on the whole. But...but sometimes I just find myself doubting it – all of this. Doubting myself."

"Have you told Harry this?" Tariq asked neutrally as she trailed off. He wasn't about to pass judgement on his colleague's personal life, or at least not out loud. All he could do was support her; encourage her to think her emotions through.

"I don't want to upset him. I know we shouldn't bring our squabbles to work, but..." Ruth gave a half-hearted shrug of one shoulder, her wavy brunette fringe falling down over her eyes, "But it's not always as black and white as that, is it?"

"No. I guess it isn't."

They sat in silence for a moment, both watching Harry as he reached inside his filing cabinet and drew out a large bottle of whisky, a scowl etched across his face.

Tariq flicked the switch on the iPod, and the track continued, the tune trickling through Ruth's head. Her brain was so full normally, of classics, or Ancient Greek, or terrorist attacks, that she missed the true values of the everyday, trivial things.

_Why is it so hard to find someone who cares about you? When it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you._ She really didn't know.

She hadn't sung for a long while now; she'd quit her choir after Ros's death, and with that she'd blocked out the words of the songs that'd taught her so much. All men will be brothers, under gentle wings. She remembered that conversation so well. That day.

Each time a colleague died, she felt as if a little piece of her heart had been torn away – one day, it'd be her locked away in the coffin; with or without six attendants at her funeral, regardless of any tears shed for her...she'd be gone. She'd be oblivious. And that scared her.

XxXxX

Dimitri gave a deep sigh, resting his head in his hands as he felt tears well up beneath his eyelids. It didn't help. The darkness only brought back the image of Beth's body.

He never cried. He was ex SBS, for God's sake. He hadn't even known Beth that well; they'd worked together for maybe a few months – hardly an eternity. What was happening to him?

"Dimitri?"

"Ruth," he raised his head a fraction, his eyes remaining downcast in the hope that he'd avoid awkward questions.

But Ruth didn't take no for an answer, "It's okay, you know. To cry. We're all human. Pretending otherwise doesn't help anyone, least of all yourself."

"I...I'm just annoyed. I can't find a poem. For her funeral."

Ruth laid an affectionate hand on his shoulder at the defensive touch to his words. She knew the feeling. "Well, that's okay. It can be hard, to find the right words. Have you thought about a reading instead? A bible quote, perhaps?"

"I don't even understand, though. Why do I feel like this? As if the whole world's crashed down around me?" he mused, running a hand roughly over his eyes before turning to face her, "I've seen so many people die; innocent, and guilty. It hurts every time. But not like this."

"She was your colleague, and your friend. She was decommissioned, because she felt humanity for Lucas. Now she's been killed, and we don't know why. Of course you feel confused - shocked, angry, upset. So do I and Tariq; so does Harry, for all he doesn't show it."

"She was 23; she was barely an adult. No one deserves to die horribly, but...but her? She made mistakes, yes, but doesn't everyone? She gave her heart and soul to this country, and it turned its back on her." he sniffed, turning back to the computer screen and running his cursor frustratedly down the ceaseless list of titles, "It's our fault she's dead. And I can't even find one poem to say goodbye."

"I read at Ros's funeral. I don't know how much you know about Ros - she really was one in a million. She could be bloody annoying; cold, bitter, secretive...but you couldn't find a more loyal officer in the security services. She had charm, she had intelligence. It was just all hidden," Ruth reminisced softly, leaning further over his shoulder to scrutinise the poems, "I spent many hours doing exactly this. I couldn't find a single poem suitable; flowers in a field hardly fitted, or footsteps in the sand. But in bed the night before her funeral, an old poem I'd studied in school came to my mind. And it was so perfect._ Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; thus unlamented, let me die._ _Steal from the world, and not a stone, tell where I lie. _Sometimes, you have to think outside the box. When you find the right one, you'll know. It'll be fine."

"Thanks, Ruth," he expressed gratefully, tapping Caps Lock repeatedly as she gave his shoulder one last squeeze and drifted away to converse with Tariq. The Sticky Keys window flashed up on the screen, and he rolled his eyes. Some things just never changed.

He moved to minimise the poetry website; after all, every tap and click he made was monitored, and although Harry would cover for him, he preferred to avoid confrontations with Section X. But then a poem flashed up in front of him; an advert for a download. And somehow, however boring and unoriginal it was, and however unintentionally he'd found it, it was right.

XxXxX

**Thanks for reading ****- I hope you're still enjoying it :)**

**I apologize if this chapter is a little soppy and/or slow-paced; I'll aim for more action and humour when I next update XD**

**I don't own Spooks...but I seriously can't wait for Series 10!**

**Please review xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'll start with an apology – I haven't updated in so long! I've been really busy, but school's finished for summer now, so I should have plenty of time to write :) Anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy this chapter – reviews really would be appreciated too, even if it's just a few words! ****I don't own Spooks, and "**_**Do not stand at my grave and weep**_**" is by Mary E. Frye – just liked that poem, and I can't imagine Beth wanting anyone to grieve for her. Anyway, I'll shut up now; enjoy xxx**

"_Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain._"

Dimitri paused, raising his head from the pulpit and gazing around the church. There were perhaps fifty people attending the service; her mother was clearly identifiable in the front row, with eyes as equally sapphire as Beth's had been.

He picked out a few faces from MI5, and another couple from meetings he'd had with private contractors before now. He didn't suppose anyone from any branch of the security services was ever going to be 'popular'. But it broke his heart to see so few people here to mourn the passing of such a wonderful young girl.

"_When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night._"

He focused on Ruth, settled in the back row pew alongside Harry and Tariq. His two male colleagues were focusing on the ground, perhaps shedding ashamed tears for Beth, but Ruth was watching him intently, as if really listening to the poem. It was pretty, in a way, as well as heart-breaking.

He took a deep breath and finished, emphasizing each word wholeheartedly, "_Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die._"

He sat through the rest of the service with difficulty, desperately focusing on gulping back the tears welling up in his throat. Beside him, Ruth broke down midway through the final hymn of Jerusalem.

Beth hadn't left any requests for the funeral, they'd found – she probably hadn't been planning on death so soon. It had been left to the family to choose; Dimitri felt they'd chosen the wrong ones, but who was he to say? He'd barely known her, really.

Ruth was now sobbing, unable to calm herself down. Dimitri, glancing sideways, saw Harry's hand slip down to hers, and they stood entwined. Tariq just continued to gaze down at the floor, whilst Erin, thankfully, had opted not to come.

He was vaguely aware of the service finishing, and Harry, ever the professional, led them away with a mere half-smile directed towards the vicar. Outside, the wind gusted through the trees, whipping up Ruth's scarf, and blowing stray strands of Harry's hair across his face. Dimitri wondered if it was Beth trying to tell him something. There was so much left unsaid.

"Oh, Ruth," Harry seemed uncomfortable as she continued to sob. Yes, she'd shed a tear before – at the countless funerals of colleagues, or when everything got a little too much on The Grid. But not like this. This was like when she'd seen George die – inconsolable.

"I…she…"

"Ruth, it's not your fault. You held her; you made sure she wasn't alone when she died. That's all she would've asked for. She wasn't happy, Ruth. Not after Lucas."

Ruth shook her head. She didn't have the strength to argue – she'd said all she wanted to say back in the mortuary. It wasn't Harry's fault, really. She just needed someone to blame, and somewhere to bury all the emotion. She wanted to curl up on the floor and die, right there and then. Just drift away into oblivion.

"Ruth, please," there was a frightened edge to his voice now, as he wrapped his arms around her, "The grief will pass. It always does, in the end. We won't feel like this forever."

"No. But…but maybe we want to. Maybe we need to. I know what it's like, Harry; I know what will happen when we do 'work things out'. Without this, we'll forget her, and then there'll just be nothingness – a void of loss, where you wonder what's missing from…from your…heart," Ruth slipped from Harry's arms and fell to her knees amidst the gravestones, burying her head in her gloved hands, "What if I died, Harry? What would happen then? I'd just fade away."

"No…"

"And, in time, you'd get a new intelligence analyst; some eager young thing from GCHQ, willing to risk themselves unsuspectingly for the sake of their country. I'm not irreplaceable, am I, Harry? Even you, with all your glory, and all your honour, are not irreplaceable. When you go, they'll just throw in another agent to take your place. Who cares about the dead, hey?"

"Ruth, this is…"

"We're all nobodies, aren't we? All just pawns in the game?" she sobbed, "I can't take this any more, Harry. And I won't. I want to feel human again – I want to grieve properly, for all of them. While I'm here, with you…I just can't do it any more."

"Ruth!" Harry practically yelled after her. The vicar, standing in the entrance to the church as the attendees filed out, fired him a glare, but he barely noticed. He only had eyes for his fiancée as she ran from the graveyard, a trembling hand still clasped over her mouth.

XxXxX


	5. Chapter 5

**Still working on the whole 'Erin's going to be an evil character' thing… Does anyone shop at Morrisons? ;)**

"Morrisons."

Dimitri barely looked up at Erin's clearly disgusted statement of the shop, "What about it?"

"Just that; Morrisons. I mean, come on – who shops at Morrisons?"

"Tariq does."

Erin raised her eyebrows, in the way he'd already come to expect from her, "What does that say about him?"

"Well, where do you suggest?"

"Waitrose?"

It was Dimitri's turn to glance skyward, "And what does that say about you?"

"Where do you shop?"

"It's not really a priority for me at the moment. Wherever's open," he shrugged, watching his colleague slip a hand into the carrier bag on her desk and drag out a limp-looking sandwich, "I find Greggs does a perfectly adequate meal deal. And it's cheap, too."

"Not healthy, though."

"Maybe not, but something has to be compromised, and it wouldn't be my evening sausage roll."

"If I hear _one_ more word from either of you about food, I swear I'll have you cleaning out toilets until you lose your appetites forever!" Harry stormed from his office, snatching Erin's sandwich and throwing it down on the desk.

"Where do you and Ruth shop, Harry?"

He was already angry enough. For her to ask where he shopped would've tipped him over the edge. But to mention Ruth too? So casually, as if it were commonplace?_ Big_ mistake.

"Oh, you really know how to push the buttons, don't you, Miss Watts? You think that, just because we rescued you from whatever hell you were in beforehand, you can swan around like you own the place? You're like a bloody teenager! Worse than my daughter!"

"That's saying something, considering what I've heard about her…"

He thrust himself up into her face, screaming so forcefully that specks of saliva flew from his mouth and splattered across her face, "Don't you dare!"

"Harry…" Dimitri found this was going a little too far now; he wasn't even enjoying the sparring any more, and that couldn't be allowed.

"So quick to judge now, aren't we, Harry? It's fine for you to make assumptions about me, but if I dare to reciprocate, you completely lose it? Ever heard of a hypocrite?" Erin gradually flushed further, her voice raised in both pitch and volume, "What have I ever done to you? Just because I'm not the greatest at all that friendliness crap – and you hardly are either – doesn't mean I don't care! But no, because you're just not prepared to give me a chance at all, are you?"

"Erin…" Dimitri found himself watching them like they were playing tennis, his head tilting backwards and forwards, "Calm down, both of you."

"Because you've really tried, haven't you, Erin? From the moment you walked in that door I could see it in your eyes – that look of defiance, ignorance, laziness! Who cares what anyone thinks about me; I'm a spy, and a good one, and nobody can touch me! Well, I'll tell you something, Erin, you're wrong! I can ruin you, you sadistic bitch!" he flung his arm up and slapped her hard across the cheek.

"Harry!" Dimitri grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away towards his office, equally shocked. Harry and violence? That was as unlikely as his winning the lottery. What the hell was going on? He could feel Harry shaking as he sat him down in the office chair; he was staring down at his hand, as if disbelieving at what he'd just done.

Harry signalled the cabinet silently, and Dimitri poured two glasses of scotch out quickly, shoving one into his boss's outstretched hand and taking a sip of the other.

He glanced back out at Erin. She'd sunk down onto the nearest desk, one hand raised to her face. Her eyes met his and, just for a split second, he saw real emotion; pain, and confusion, and remorse. Then she shook herself, and her eyes grew visibly cold and angry. She simply mouthed one cold, detached sentence before she stormed out: "He's going to regret this."

XxXxX

"Ruth!" Malcolm exclaimed from the doorstep of his home. His expression flicked from shocked to amazed to worried, and back through the motions all over again as he took in her soaking wet hair, the tattered rucksack clutched in her arms, the tearful eyes that gazed into his…

She didn't seem to be able to speak; she just stood there. Eventually, he reached out and took her bag, then helped her inside, stripping her dripping coat and rooting around in a cupboard for a blanket. They made their way through into the living room – it was small, but wonderfully cosy and comfortable. And, it seemed to Ruth, safe.

"Long time, no see," he greeted her belatedly once they'd settled themselves down on the sofa, both clutching mugs of, as Malcolm put it, 'cocoa', "What brings you here, Miss Evershed?"

She couldn't even manage a smile, "I've missed you, Malcolm."

His eyebrows furrowed, "And I've missed you, Ruth. Naturally. But can I ask what this is about? Are you ill? Or Harry? How's he doing nowadays?"

"He's fine," she murmured distractedly.

"Ruth…"

"You heard about Beth, I presume?"

"Harry rang me. Against protocol, maybe, but I think he needed someone to talk to about the whole thing," Malcolm sighed, "Has something happened between you two? I'm Harry's friend, Ruth, but if he's in the wrong…"

"No. He hasn't done anything, not really. I just…I can't stand it any more. Any of it," more tears fell as she spoke, "How did you cope, Malcolm?"

"I'm not going to suggest it was always easy; you know better than that. But you also know as well as I do how rewarding MI5 can be. You're contributing to saving the country, Ruth. Without you – without any of you – who knows where England would be now."

"Maybe. But I can't see that at the moment. All I can think of is Beth. I held her, as she died – watched her fade away."

"Harry said."

"She was in so much pain, Malcolm, but still she tried to smile, and of course she gave me _Sandbank_. In her position, I'd just have lain there crying. But no. Whatever people say about today's generation, MI5 grow stronger every time we recruit, and Beth was part of it. She…she could've done so much more – she could've really made something of herself. She wasn't always perfect, no, but we learn from our mistakes, don't we? She didn't deserve this."

"No. Of course she didn't. But neither did any of them, did they? Danny – what had he ever done to harm anyone? Fiona and Adam; all they wanted was a quiet life with their son, but they too were dragged into the service. Jo, Ros, Lucas… Each was a big loss. But we pick ourselves up; we carry on somehow. We're fighters, Ruth, as much as we're spies. We fight evil, and we fight pain. We always will."

Malcolm sounded so calm about it, Ruth thought. Too calm; almost unmoved. But she knew him, and she knew that wasn't the case. Everyone had their ways of dealing with the service, and maybe she was beginning to see his now. How hard could it be; convincing yourself of something? Incredibly.

"Ruth," Malcolm was speaking again now, "It's hard; I know it's hard. But I promise you – it'll be okay. And, until you feel more…more settled, you're more than welcome to stay with me. I'd relish the company, in fact, just so long as you promise me in return you'll talk to Harry."

"I will," she agreed, finishing off her drink and staring down into the undissolved chocolate patterns, "Thank you, Malcolm. Really, thank you."

"Not a problem," he smiled again, with such warmth it made her heart ache as she reminisced old times on the Grid, "Now, I'll show you to the spare room, shall I? Then perhaps we can find something to watch – the Titanic?"

She smiled weakly, "Thanks, Malcolm, but you wouldn't mind if I just went to bed, would you? I'm so tired."

"No; of course. We can talk in the morning, when you're ready," he stood, taking her hand and helping her up too. They stared at each other for a moment, before he pulled her into an awkward one armed hug, and they clung on tight, just glad to have each other.

XxXxX

**Thanks for reading – please review :) xx**


	6. Chapter 6

"Beth had a relatively normal childhood. Stable home. Decent school reports. Blah blah blah. Her teachers seem to agree; very bright, but very devious from an early age – could, and would, wriggle her way out of any situation. Looks like she joined the right place," Erin supposed, teaming her snarl with a vicious glance towards Harry's office.

Dimitri had calmed her down enough to force an agreement from her – she wouldn't make a formal complaint. She wasn't a woman who went back on deals, he knew that. But something else worried him; she now seemed to have begun a personal vendetta, and had already mentioned his name several times this morning amidst not particularly polite remarks.

"She went to the University of Edinburgh whilst training with MI5, but it was felt – by _him_ – that she was immature and volatile, and she was kicked out. Naturally, she went on to be a private security contractor, and pretty much earned a bucket load for sitting on her arse all day. But, for some odd reason, she decided she wanted to come back, and _he _let her. If you want someone to blame, Dimitri…"

"Thank you, Erin," Ruth's words were mildly put, but her eyes were sharp. She sat deliberately facing away from Harry's office. She'd promised Malcolm again this morning that she'd speak to him, but… Besides, what he'd done to Erin was inexcusable. "Dimitri, anything else on Sandbank?"

"Yes, actually. I spoke to her former colleagues, and one of them remembered an op called Sandbank a couple of years back. He tried to dig up the files for me, but there's nothing – it's either been moved or deleted. All he remembers is US involvement, and that he and Beth successfully destroyed the threat. He's on his way over at the moment; he's not particularly pleased…"

"My heart bleeds."

Nobody retorted – Ruth instead wondered if Ros would've perhaps snapped back _'it won't be the only thing bleeding in a minute_', whilst Dimitri just stared at the floor.

"Is _he_ going to do any work at all, then? Seriously, they've already marked me down for a health assessment, and then a psychologist's meeting! Am I the only one who thinks these people are looking the wrong way?"

"Our colleague died last week, Erin. Have a bit of respect," Ruth couldn't hold her tongue this time – no, Erin hadn't known Beth, but surely she'd grieved before? Then again…

"Have you seen what he did to me?" Erin flicked back her hair, revealing two purplish streaks tinged with yellow; a somewhat painful-looking hand shaped bruise.

Ruth winced and looked pointedly away, "Yes. And he was wrong to do that. But he's truly sorry – he wasn't himself."

"And what are you; his spokeswoman?" Erin's eyes grew fiery again, but she returned to her paperwork – she didn't want to make enemies of all the team.

Ruth sat with her head in her hands for a few moments, unable to think about work again, "Do you want a coffee, Dimitri?"

"I'm fine, cheers."

"Erin?"

She raised her head, clearly surprised at even being asked, "No. But… but thank you."

Ruth attempted a smile and left the room, wandering along the corridor aimlessly. She wasn't even thirsty herself, if she was honest. But the atmosphere in that room…she couldn't stand it. She had enough troubles without that eating her up too. Somehow, she'd begun to feel guilty for Erin's injury – she was the one who'd upset Harry, and he'd only lashed out because he was worried, hadn't he? But, if she blamed herself for everyone else's problems, she'd been an incredibly unhappy woman. Even more unhappy than she was right now.

She sat down on the staircase instead. Once, a couple of years ago, she'd been shopping in W H Smiths; browsing cheap paperbacks, if she remembered rightly. Anyway, she'd suddenly felt overcome with dizziness, and sat down on the stairs to recover her composure, but some stroppy manager had stormed over and demanded she move. So she'd stood up, stumbled, and fallen down the remainder of the stairs. She'd been fine. But she was willing to bet that woman thought twice before lecturing people on staircase hazards again.

"Ruth."

Oh, how she'd yearned to hear that voice the past few days. To look into the eyes of the speaker; to see his lips twist up into a smile… "Harry."

The stair she perched on trembled slightly as he sank down beside her. She glanced subtly sideways, surveying him. There was, perhaps, a couple of inches between their bodies; if he brought his hand down from his lap, he'd be mere millimeters from where her own palm lay face upwards.

He was pale, and his lips were set in an unreadable line. What little hair he had left was unkempt – even his tie was twisted, for God's sake. But what really got to her was eyes. Drained of all colour, devoid of all emotion…

"Don't you need to collect some clothes?"

She found herself inwardly sighing. So, that was the way he was going to play it? "No. I packed lots. Malcolm's washing them for me anyway."

She noted Harry's lips twitch, "Are you okay, staying with him?"

"Yes, he's a wonderful host. He has meals ready for me when I get home, then we'll watch films, or just read. He understands I need time."

"That's good."

She felt a twinge of guilt. Was she being too cruel now? Was he okay on his own? "Harry…"

"It's fine, Ruth."

"No, it isn't. What happened with Erin…"

"I was tired. And stressed. And…and worried about you," he sighed, "That isn't helped by the fact that what I said was true – she's a scheming, self-serving brat."

"And she's your colleague._ Our_ colleague. Besides, it's a bit late to realise Beth was better after you've dumped her back into the cold, isn't it?"

Too cruel. Harry's face crumpled, and she felt an undeniable desire to wrap her arms around him. He, in turn, suddenly seemed to find the stairs very interesting, "I might not show it like you, but I do care, Ruth. It's because I care that she was decommissioned – because I care too much. She wasn't stable; she wasn't safe to be here with us. It isn't my fault she wasn't safe to be in the real world either."

Ruth didn't speak.

"People say it gets easier. That you get used to it after a while – death. It's just the opposite of birth, really; the end as opposed to the beginning. What's to grieve about?"

"Harry…"

"I don't feel like that, Ruth. I think it gets harder each time. And you were right, it could be you next." his eyes were still locked on the floor, refusing to meet her gaze, "What if it is?"

XxXxX

**The next chapter's going to continue from where Harry and Ruth's conversation has left off, if you're interested…****but will they make up? I don't know myself! Hehe :) Thanks for reading, please review and tell me what you thought/think - I might not be able to update for a while, but I'll keep planning it! xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm back from my hols! :)**

**This carries on mid-conversation with Harry and Ruth:**

"I'm hoping I'll hold on for a little longer yet," she suggested shakily.

"What if you lay there, unable to fight them, or cry out for help? What if you died alone? Your last thoughts would be that no one cared – that _I_ didn't care."

"Would that be a fair assumption?"

"God, Ruth!" Harry leapt up, and the staircase shook again. He sat down promptly, though. He seemed so weak as he spoke, as if any courage or will he'd ever possessed (copious amounts, in her opinion) had been stolen from him. "I…I loved Jane, of course I did. And I loved the children. But I was young, and naïve, and full of bravado. I was MI5, or 6 in those days, and I was untouchable. But…but it didn't work out like that. My marriage fell apart thanks to Juliet, that treacherous lunatic, and my children…well, I wasn't exactly a great father, was I?"

"You had a lot on your mind."

"Exactly. But my point is I shouldn't have done. Why did I have children when I didn't want them; when I wasn't ready? What kind of a life did they live because of me?" he seemed to be speaking to himself now – certainly, his questions were rhetorical, "By the time I became head of Section D, I realised I'd regret my youthful actions for the rest of my life. But…but as I tell them all, and as they all repeat back to me when everything falls apart, it takes you in, chews you up, spits you out. You're forgotten; you're futile. But it's too late to back out by the time you accept that. Does anyone here remember Malcolm any more?"

"_We_ do."

He ignored her, "Then I met you. And…and you were so… You wore your hair in pigtails, you chatted with Sam about boys. You didn't look like the cleverest woman I'd even worked with, but you were. And indeed the cleverest _person_ I'd ever worked with. You left, and it broke my heart. You came back, and, just as I'd begun to heal, you tore me apart all over again. You'd been happy out there – with George and Nico. You'd made something of yourself – you could've survived in the normal world. And…and you were loved. You were a good partner, and a good parent. I'd never been close to either."

"Of course you had."

"I loved you though, Ruth. I always loved you, and I always will. When I'm with you, nothing else matters," he laid his head in his arms, his eyes overflowing with tears.

She reached out and touched his hand, "Harry… Harry, I love you too – I really do. And I'm so sorry all of this has happened. But…but remember when you told me you didn't want to feel as if you were covered in blood any more? Well, we all grieve differently, and…and at the moment it just feels as if everything is on my shoulder. _Everything_. It's not your fault, but I need time."

"So do I. We can do it together. I need you, Ruth. Please, come home."

XxXxX

"Erin, a word, please," Harry suggested neutrally as he re-entered the Grid, Ruth in tow. Dimitri was pleased to see a certain glint in both pairs of eyes – he'd missed it. All in all, they were due a little happiness.

"Great," Erin murmured, making a show of drawing back her chair and storming after him.

Ruth and Dimitri exchanged glances, finding themselves suddenly smirking. Their new colleague was worse than a teenager – stroppy, arrogant, selfish… Harry would eat her for breakfast.

"They're getting on well," Dimitri remarked as inaudible raised voices echoed through from the office.

Ruth chuckled, finding herself truly amused for the first time in…well, a while. Harry looked up and saw her smile; it was impossible to gauge his reaction, but the blinds were hastily drawn – either he was irritated, or he merely didn't want to be distracted by images of his girlfriend. Ruth preferred the latter theory.

"You're okay now, then? You and Harry?" Dimitri jerked a shoulder in the direction of Harry's office.

"Yeah. Still a long way to go, but yeah."

"I'm glad. And I mean that, Ruth," he smiled, his eyes so warm and sincere as he addressed her that his attitude was contagious.

"Thank you."

"Maybe…maybe we could have a five minute break? I'm sure Beth wouldn't begrudge us that."

Ruth shook her head. She understood that Dimitri found it hard to talk about his former colleague, and that Erin's insensitive portrayal of her life hadn't helped whatsoever. She felt proud of him for his bravery in discussing the subject. "No, I'm sure she wouldn't. How about…a game of _I Spy_?"

"Ooh, how apt," Dimitri grinned, "Okay, I'll start. I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with…Erin?"

"You're supposed to just give me the first let…" Ruth spun to follow his gaze as his eyes suddenly widened, and both watched in shock and horror as Erin ran from Harry's office and disappeared altogether from view. All they caught was her expression – undoubted fear.

"Harry?" Ruth probed softly.

Dimitri didn't wait for his boss's response. He dived after her, and found her huddled up on the stairs after searching a few deserted offices and the girls' bathrooms.

"Hi," he muttered uncomfortably, sinking down beside her, "Are you okay?"

She jerked her head round to face him, her eyes fierce behind a screen of tears, "No."

"What happened? Can we talk?"

"No."

"Erin…"

She gave a tearful sigh, "Why do you care, Dimitri?"

"You're my colleague."

"So?"

"Well…" he paused, "I like the people I work with to be happy."

"But I'm just a bitch. I know what you say about me, and I know what you think too. The worst part is, it's perfectly true."

"We don't say anything…"

"You had Beth. I'm just a replacement; I just disrupt everything you've built up here. I know," she turned away, "And I'm sorry."

"Erin?" Dimitri shuffled a little towards her and touched her shoulder gently. She flinched. "Erin, what's happened to cause this so suddenly? You don't need to be sorry for anything."

"Harry hates me."

Dimitri resisted the urge to add sarcasm to the conversation; Erin was distressed, and he wasn't going to take advantage of that, even if she deserved it, "No, he doesn't. He's just…he's struggling with Beth's death. He blames himself."

"As do you."

He gulped. She was still as direct as ever. "Yes. I do."

"You shouldn't. It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?"

"No," she shook her head, still facing the wall, "You can feel guilty – you probably always will. She didn't deserve to die, you don't deserve to survive. That's inevitable. But don't blame yourself, Dimitri. Don't ruin your own life mourning the loss of hers – she wouldn't want that."

Dimitri felt his own eyes well up as Erin's voice trembled. It was such a transformation from the woman he'd first met that he barely dared to believe it. Thinking of others? Sounding genuinely empathetic?

She gave a hollow chuckle, "You just think I'm weird now, don't you?"

"What's to say I didn't already?" he retorted, but his own voice now held a degree of warmth it hadn't before, "Thank you. But I still don't understand what's going on. Please, Erin, it'll help you get it off your chest? I might even know what to do?"

She took a deep shuddery breath, "I'll try."

XxXxX

**Please review! xx**


	8. Chapter 8

"I worked for Section F before this. I was young – young and naïve. But then that's what everyone's excuse is, isn't it? I went in there all open, and warm, and willing. But they didn't want little Barbie dolls, they said. They didn't want officers who could've doubled up as children's TV presenters. I was…I was pretty much torn to shreds. I lost my confidence; I gained all the fake bravado and bitterness they used. My mother looked at me, and couldn't see her daughter any more."

Dimitri nodded slowly.

"I convinced myself that I'd had no choice; I had to fit in to survive there. But I hated my life. I hated the person I'd become. And I just couldn't get away," she sniffed back more tears, "My boss at the time was a man not so far away from Harry. Maybe a bit younger, but…but the point is, I trusted him. He understood my feelings – he was a shoulder to cry on."

"Hey, it's okay," Dimitri wrapped an affectionate arm around the woman – she was trembling almost pitiably, and tears rolled down her cheeks like raindrops on a window pane, "It's okay."

"No, it's not," again, she tensed as his hand touched her, as if she were afraid of contact between them, "One night, I was undercover – a massive op. My cover was blown wide open during a crucial moment, and… and I was lucky to escape with my life. Once the adrenaline had subsided, I…I just couldn't hold myself together – I was crying, and throwing up all over the floor. I'd slipped up, and caused the many deaths of innocent people who'd trusted me. I knew my colleagues would never relent from their teasing, too. More because I'd shown emotion than anything else. It wasn't really teasing, either – it was bullying. Harsh, and degrading. I was just so low."

"And your boss was there for you?"

"Yes. Why am I telling you this, Dimitri?"

"Because you need to. Because you need someone to trust."

"How do I know I can trust you, though? How are you any different to them?"

He shrugged, "I have honourable eyes."

"You do," Erin couldn't summon up the energy or happiness required to smile, but Dimitri felt her relax in his grip, "Are you wearing contacts?"

"Oh, funny," he wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, "So, your boss? Shall we call him John?"

"This isn't supposed to be a whole big joke, Dimitri. I don't know why I'm telling you this, I really don't," Erin shuffled away, guarded again.

"Hey, Erin, it's okay."

"I'm sorry. It's just…Okay. I went back to John's; he said he'd looked after me for a while, until I felt better. I…I just needed someone to believe in me for a change. And it worked; he said I was different from the rest of them – I was set apart by my humanity. Fat chance, right?"

"Erin, did he...did he hurt you?"

She bowed her head, "We drank a bit. He said it'd calm me down, and it did. He took me to bed, helped me undress, whispered soothing remarks. I…I was just desperate. I needed to feel normal again – and to feel needed. I barely knew what was happening."

"Christ…" Dimitri could barely get the word out.

"He'd protect me in front of my colleagues then; at work, I was untouchable. But…but for a price," she sounded horribly calm about it now, as if it were a normal conversation topic, "He gave me attention, I gave him what he wanted in return. He was too strong for me to resist – in both ways."

"So…so…Harry? You were scared of…of what might happen?"

"I know, I know. It's stupid. I've seen the way he is with Ruth; he loves her. And he was perfectly fair with me to start with – I was the one who wound him up to the limit when he was already so stressed. But…but if I didn't hide how I really felt, I couldn't even stand in the same room as him."

"Oh, Erin. Come here," he wrapped his arms around her, and she sagged into his shoulder, sobbing. He held her for a long while, rocking her and squeezing her hand. Eventually, she regained vague control, and he released her, lapsing into a deep silence.

"What must they all think of me? What do _you _think of me?"

He held her gaze somberly, "I think you're braver than I'll ever be."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And…and please will you come with me, to see Harry?"

"Of course."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards barely visibly, "Thanks."

XxXxX

"Wine, Erin?" Harry surveyed her amiably, signaling to the bartender as the team assembled around the bar, "Beer? Lager? G&T?"

"Orange juice, please," she requested, equally neutrally, although her expression was slightly wary. Would they laugh at her? Harry just nodded, though, and Dimitri squeezed her shoulder, while Ruth and Tariq were too busy bickering to notice anyway. "But Harry?"

"Yep?"

She dug out her purse and handed him a crisp twenty pound note, managing a shy smile, "I think it's my round."

"Good plan, Miss Watts. Very good plan indeed."

Dimitri nodded his thanks as the barman dropped a pint down in front of him, smirking at Erin, "You've made a friend for life now, mate."

"What a delightful prospect," Harry took the glass of juice and handed it across to his second in command, "Well, on that note, I propose a toast. Erin?"

She nodded, holding her glass up almost nervously, "To Beth."

"To Beth," they all echoed.

Beside her, Erin heard Dimitri gulp. She reached out for his hand, and he let her take it. Their eyes met – his were slightly misted, yet filled with gratitude. Somewhere between the bar and the table, Harry and Ruth also took each other's hands, but in a more romantic way than their younger colleagues; their fingers were linked, and their eyes alight.

Tariq sank down into the armchair as the two pairs took the sofas, sighing in an exaggeratedly disgruntled manner, "Way to make a guy feel inadequate."

"Sorry," Erin dropped Dimitri's hand.

"Ignore him – he needs to get out more," Dimitri just shook his head. He could almost have laughed at Erin if it hadn't been so serious; how could a woman change so much in one day? It was like she was a completely different person. He'd gone from barely tolerating her to…to loving her. Not in that sense, though. Just as a friend.

"I think it's time we introduced Erin to our Friday nights, then," Harry suggested, taking a sip of his whisky.

Something about his tone made her squirm – she wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was planning, "Mmm…"

"It's good," Tariq defended, with the convincing factor of a blood-covered man clutching a knife beside a dead body, "And fun."

"Mmm…"

"Ruth, you start?" Harry prompted.

"Do I have to?" Ruth still seemed slightly wary of Erin, as though she wasn't willing to trust her quite yet. Nobody could blame her – so often, spies fell into that trap, and Ruth wasn't so experienced with facing the lies. But she'd come round.

"Yep."

She sighed, "Errm…"

"What are we playing?" Erin cut across Ruth's hesitation, "Is someone going to explain?"

"No. Come on, Ruth."

"Okay, what's your favourite book?"

Both Harry and Dimitri burst out laughing. Ruth looked defensive, Tariq irritated, and Erin simply bewildered. "I don't know. Is this a trick or something?"

"Dimitri, I think you'd better take over…" Harry chuckled, wrapping an affectionate arm around Ruth's waist and lying back beside her. They were getting too old for this.

Erin picked up her drink and held it to her lips, feigning boredom, but coming across as utterly confused, "What, is this some kind of punishment for being a bitch earlier? I don't get it."

"Well…" Dimitri's eyes lit up as he turned towards her, "Who was the first lad you kissed?"

Erin flushed scarlett and splurted a mouthful of juice across the table, "Oh. It's that kind of game. Shit."

XxXxX

**Please review ****:) xx**


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, then?"

"A lad called James," Erin recalled to Dimitri reluctantly, "He was in the year below me at school. He was cute, though."

"How old were you?"

She cleared her throat sheepishly, "Fourteen."

"Late bloomer," Harry found unexpected amusement in this confession, "I'm surprised; I'd have thought the boys would've been falling at your feet, Erin."

"Thanks, I think," she straightened her skirt self-consciously, "So, is it my turn now?"

"Oh, no; we each get a question," Harry smirked, "Okay…errm…what's the biggest lie you've ever told to a partner?"

"Aside from my job?"

He rolled his eyes, "Aside from your job."

"Oh, God, I don't know…I once told a guy I was 20."

"And how wrong is that?" Dimitri probed inquisitively.

"Oh, come on, you've all read the files," she took another sip of her juice, "I'm 30. And that was a few years ago, so…it's not really that bigger lie, is it?"

"Not given that you look about my age…"

She smiled, "Well, I guess I'm just a golden girl. Spend all my life lying for a living – at home, I prefer the truth."

"Mmm…" Harry didn't look convinced, "I still want to know what your favourite book is."

Ruth nodded, "It's a good question. Good guide to a personality."

Dimitri snorted. Erin sighed, "I don't know, really. I suppose I like classics. Alice in Wonderland? Black Beauty? What does that say about me?"

"You like dreams and horses?" Dimitri suggested, laughing as Ruth attempted to swat him with her handbag, "You like children's books?"

"Cheers, Dimitri."

"No worries."

As much as he longed to discover what his reading of a nighttime meant, Harry held Ruth tighter, silently urging her not to start a ten minute discussion on the meanings of books. They could do that in the office when they were bored, if they had to do it at all, "Okay, okay. Tariq?"

"When was the last time you did _it_?"

Erin could feel her confidence seep away as the words registered in her mind. This was supposed to be fun? Normal people could discuss such personal things?

She could lie, couldn't she? Lying was in her blood; as natural as breathing. She could just murmur an answer and ask Tariq an equally intimate question – no one would remember by morning anyway. But she met Dimitri's concerned gaze and couldn't do it. Couldn't put behind her the reality.

"Erin…" Dimitri sighed as she disappeared again, receiving suspicious glances from all around the pub.

"Too deep?" Tariq wrinkled his nose.

"She's just tired. New job syndrome, all that," he replied lightly, patting his mate on the back. Nevertheless, he stood up, "I'll check she's okay. See you tomorrow, guys."

"Night," Ruth and Harry chorused, exchanging glances. This Erin was an odd one. But it was probably best to leave her to it for now – Dimitri seemed to be the only one she trusted right now, and he'd look out for her.

Tariq watched the door swing shut for the second time, then finished his drink and stood too, "See you."

"Bye," Ruth cuddled further up to Harry as they were left alone. The drinks were gone, but neither of them showed any inclination to move and buy more. She could feel her eyelids drooping; Erin wasn't the only one who was tired.

Harry's chest rose and fell rhythmatically, lulling her into peaceful thought. She felt lighter than she had in weeks as he stroked her cheek tenderly – sometimes, you had to fall out before things could get better, and right now she was glad they had argued, because it reinvigorated in her the sense that she needed him more than ever.

"You don't look very comfy there, Ruth?"

She raised her head and met his twinkling gaze – oh, how she loved those eyes, "You're a perfectly adequate pillow, actually. Soft, and warm, and squidgy…"

He aimed a playful tap at her arm, "Squidgy?"

"Only in the nicest possible way."

They sat in silence for a long moment, the bar's rowdy chatter far away. Eventually, Harry released her, "All the same, I happen to think we might be more comfy at home, don't you?"

"What are you suggesting, Harry?" she already had her fingers on her coat, "A pot of tea, perhaps? Scones? An episode of _Only Fools and Horses_?"

"Mmm…those things as well…" he agreed, helping her up and leading her towards the exit as he spoke, "But my mind was rather focused on the bedroom, actually."

"Ooh, you dirty bugger," Ruth laughed as the car lit up and they scrambled inside. The lights fell, but they found each other in the darkness, and kissed passionately, their hands on each other's faces.

Harry leant in a little over-exuberantly, and the car echoed with a crash as he knocked the SatNav from the ledge. Ruth just giggled, unperturbed. Harry's face brightened with a mischievous grin as they pulled apart again, "You know what I said about the bedroom?"

"Yeah. Having second thoughts?"

"Something like that," his hands slipped down to her cardigan buttons, and hers to his tie, and he gave a satisfied sigh, "Why wait?"

XxXxX

"You're sure you're okay? Sure you're ready? You really should talk to Harry, you know. I'd come with you, if that's the problem, but I think…"

Erin sighed, "Look, Dimitri; I know you're trying to help, and I'm really grateful, but I'm not a child."

Something inside him flickered, "Really?" Well, you acted like one last night – storming out. It was only a joke – you could've just said you weren't going to tell a perv like him or something. If you want me to believe you're fine, at least act the part."

There was silence for a moment. Erin's expression was unreadable, but her eyes glimmered. He wondered if he'd been too harsh; what he'd said last night about new job nerves wasn't entirely untrue, and he ought to give her time to settle in, didn't he? Especially now she'd confided her secrets – she needed, and perhaps deserved, to know she could trust him.

"Erin…"

"No, you're right. I'm sorry. I just…" she paused, soaking up the warmth and concern in his gaze, "I just forgot what it was like to have someone care about you."

"Oh, Erin," he reached out, his fingers brushing her shoulder in sympathy. He just couldn't imagine the world she'd been living in. Like the poverty-stricken third-world countries, she'd been deprived of life. But in Africa, they still had love, and hope and compassion. They were thankful for what they had. Erin had been given all the clothes and food and gifts she could want, but what were they when she lived an inhumane existence, where compassion was sucked from the air she breathed?

"Sorry…" Tariq mumbled uncomfortably from the doorway, peering around the corner into the corridor his colleagues stood in. From the look in his eyes, he assumed they were now _together_.

Was that so wrong?

Dimitri tried to pull away – not wanting to embarrass himself or Erin – but she stayed close, seeking the comfort his presence gave her. He didn't protest, "Tariq?"

"Harry needs you both in his office. Now," the tech genius squirmed, eyeing Erin in almost apprehension, "Erin. I'm sorry…about last night."

She was ready for that. She nodded and smiled, "So am I."

Tariq retreated, evidently relieved. Erin leant back against the wall, her eyes suddenly fearful again, "This is it, then. My chance to prove I'm not completely useless."

"Erin, you would not be here if Harry didn't think you could do it – there's no doubt about that," he assured her firmly.

"Would it be incredibly unprofessional of me to ask for a hug?"

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She was really quite petite up close, and her figure quivered slightly as he held her, "You'll be brilliant."

"Thanks," she _felt_ small now too; out of her depth. She didn't know if she trusted herself quite yet – how could her colleagues believe in her when she didn't have confidence in herself? Was this what teamwork was all about?

They moved apart, and headed wordlessly for Harry's office, taking the seats he indicated.

"Alright, Erin? You're up to doing this?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled, "Harry. I don't need to remind you how dangerous this man is – we've been over it enough. You know the story? You're sure of your details?"

"Yes."

"Good," he handed her two envelopes and a purse; everything she needed to fill out her identity undercover. It was funny, she thought – at her flat, she had boxes and boxes of unpacked junk, but when it came down to it a life fitted into a couple of sheets of paper.

"Well, all that remains is for me to wish you good luck, then. Make sure you stay safe – don't risk yourself for anything. If it goes too far, get out of there."

Erin took the hint and left. Dimitri sank back down, "You're going to ask me how she is, aren't you? What happened with you in the office, or in the pub the other night?"

Harry sighed, "I've a pretty good idea – she's not the first to act like that, and we all know how corrupt her former boss is. No doubt she'll settle in."

"She's desperate to make it up to you. I think she needs to do this for herself, too; to move on."

"She's a good kid. She'll be fine," Harry glanced out to where Erin stood with Ruth, animatedly discussing her new passport, "Right, then. Let's get this party started."

XxXxX

**Mmm…****HR fluff ;) Gonna try to finish this story before the new series starts (so excited!) or I'll look really stupid when Erin's the complete opposite of this, won't I?**

**Please review :) xx**


	10. Chapter 10

"This is Alan Bruce. Businessman, millionaire, campaigner and murderer. A perfect example of what MI5 is here to deal with," Harry clicked the board, "Erin has been undercover for the past two weeks, posing as a waitress in the hotel he's currently staying in – The Dorchester in Mayfair. We believe Bruce is planning an attack on London – from intelligence we've gathered, he appears to be targeting immigrants, and citizens with non-British origins. According to Erin, there will be a secret meeting held this morning, involving all the key players of Bruce's scheme. Once we have the evidence we require, we'll storm the meeting and collect our prize."

"It should be quite simple – Tariq's given Erin the bugs, and all she has to do is make sure they're in place and get out of there before it all kicks off. We're aiming for minimum casualties – Bruce is a very paranoid man, but hopefully we'll catch him unawares before he has any chance to wreak havoc," Ruth continued, glancing to Dimitri.

Whatever any of them said, Erin was at risk here. Nobody could bear the thought of losing another colleague, especially when Beth's murderer still hadn't been brought to justice.

"Tariq, drag up the CCTV of the hotel, anything you can get. We need to know when all the important players are in position. Dimitri, liaise with the top hotel staff, but keep knowledge to a minimum – they only need to know caution is required. Ruth, you're listening in. Everyone clear?"

All three nodded.

"Good. Let's hope Erin's hard work will be rewarded, then – maybe I can finally repay her with a round tonight when this is over," Harry smirked, "Okay – get to work."

XxXxX

"Can I get you anything, sir? A drink? Something to eat?" Erin peered down somewhat timidly at Alan Bruce, fiddling subconsciously with her apron. She was glad to be assuming the alias of Megan Willis, if she was honest; this guy was really quite intimidating, and acting the part of a shy young waitress meant she didn't need to mask her own apprehension.

"I'm fine," he didn't raise his head.

"Would you like something brought in during the meeting, then? Jugs of water on the table? Complimentary biscuits?"

He did look at her now, "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I know, sir, but I…"

"I don't want any ruddy biscuits, understand? If we need anything, we'll let you know. Otherwise, keep well out of the way, or else."

Erin decided to push him, "Is it an important meeting, sir?"

He exploded with rage, slamming a clenched fist down on the table, and snarling menacingly, "Do you know who I am? Do you know what happens when people mess with me? Just get out of my sight!"

Two security guards stepped forwards and seized her roughly, yanking her away. She shook them off, not willing to accept this treatment, "Get off me!"

"Sorry, love," the bulkier guard smirked, his expression anything but apologetic, "He doesn't like to be interrupted when he's busy. How about you go and top up the old dears' tea in the breakfast hall, yeah? Make yourself useful?"

She gave him a cold glare and slipped from the room. She wanted him to know vaguely who she was, yes, so she looked like a familiar face around the hotel. But too much attention was never good when you were a spy. She'd learnt that a long time ago, and she'd learnt it the hard way.

She made her way to the meeting hall slowly, making sure she wasn't followed. Of course, she'd have the perfect excuse of tidying up before the important guests arrived, but she'd prefer no-one to know anyway, just in case.

Inside, she fixed the bugs in the most inventive places she could conjure up in her time limit. There was a camera fitted, too; that had been there a few days, thanks to the tech team, but they hadn't dared to bug it until just before the event. Hopefully, there wouldn't be an overly thorough check now.

She left the room and headed downstairs. The atmosphere was tense, all the staff dressed in their suits and short dresses, with fake smiles plastered across their faces. She wanted to give them a lesson in lying – they were crap at it. Still, that wasn't such a bad position to be in, was it?

"Her."

Erin spun round. Alan Bruce stood at the desk by the hotel manager's side, his forefinger pointed menacingly at her.

"Sir?" she crept forward, feeling genuinely shaky.

"She was the one causing the trouble. The people here these days – the standards are disgraceful. I want her fired."

"Well, sir, I understand your concern, but…" her boss, Samuel Johnson, began, sounding as nervous as she felt.

"First, though, she can give my bedroom a good clean – aside from the odd dust-around, it hasn't been given any attention for my entire stay here. Don't give her any wages. No references either."

Sam shook his head, "Please, sir, she's only young…"

"I want her out."

Sam took a deep breath, "Okay. Miss Willis. My office, please."

XxXxX

"I'm sorry, Megan, really. But that man…he could close down the entire hotel – that's how powerful he is. I have no choice whatsoever once he's spoken. I can try to get you into another branch once he's gone, but…well…"

"No, sir. I'll be fine. Thank you," Erin managed a weak smile.

He nodded. He wouldn't push her – if he was honest, he'd only taken her in the first place because of the powerful people her parents know. He seemed to spend his entire life bowing to others' orders, really. "Well, I'd be grateful if you kept away from the customers from now on, then. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll clean the bedroom too, sir. It's the least I can do. I'm so sorry for what happened," she sighed.

"It's not your fault," he tried to sound convincing, "Okay; well, thank you, I suppose. I'll arrange a taxi home for you…say nine o'clock tonight? That'll give you time, won't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, sir," she stood up, "Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye, Megan."

XxXxX

**Going ****to conclude this soon – want to finish it before Series 10! And I'm also working on another fic about **_**the end**_**… Please review xx**


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